


Angles

by Gla22



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Casual drinking, E for chapter 2, M/M, Modern AU, Pool AU, bar au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gla22/pseuds/Gla22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi has a habit of using inexperienced pool players to pay of his tab at the local bar, but may have bitten off a little more than he can chew. Hanji is bemused, Mike is amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fealle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fealle/gifts).



“It’s all about the angles,” says the man in the red silk shirt, his top two buttons unclasped to expose an edge of dark curling hair (as they always are after his third glass of rum and coke, and Levi knows he’s had at least four) as he rocks back on his heels after his shot.

He’s playing stripes, and Levi has to admit he’s got a pretty sweet setup. His last two balls are lined up well, if he can manage a ricochet off the back edge of the table that works with the subtle downward curve of the bar’s old green felt top. The eight is placed between them, perfectly positioned as an intermediary that may well allow him to get both in one shot. It shouldn’t be a problem if his opponent, an affluently black-clad, impeccably groomed, and obviously tipsy man with a flush rising on his sharp cheekbones, takes the six into the side pocket and leaves the cue just above the basket. Levi doesn’t doubt he will; it’s the most sound play, and this man has been playing a solid, if unremarkable, game all night.

Levi leans back against the bar and watches and the man glances up at Nile, his flush deepening by the moment.“Is that so?” he says mildly, lining up for the six just as Levi had anticipated. Levi allows himself a small internal smirk as his face assumes an obvious expression of labored focus: mouth slightly open, chewing his already bruised lower lip, strikingly blue eyes narrowed. Levi can hardly be called jealous, but he must admit Nile has made a very good catch this evening. Everything about this man, from his gelled hair to his patent leather, well-heeled shoes, screams money, and everything about his posture and face screams easy. Arrogant. Young and just a bit reckless, loose with his wallet and his drinks. Perfect for Nile, whose naturally challenging and loud mannerisms engage every competitive instinct in such men.

Levi lifts his own drink (a vodka martini, much cheaper and weaker than the bartender knows to make it look) to his lips. The man in black takes his shot just as Nile opens his mouth and says “Of course. Angles and brains,” with that trademark infuriating grin. The man in black jerks forward gracelessly and smacks the cueball - _Too hard_ , Levi thinks to himself - straight into, and then off of, the six, which misses the side pocket completely but, by a stoke of luck, finds itself in the opposite corner pocked. This leaves the cue ball just a few inches off of where Nile needs it to be to finish the game. The man in black grimaces as he withdraws. Then his eyes widen almost imperceptibly as they flicker between the cue, the fifteen, and the twelve, lingering just a moment on the eight. A resigned smile plays across his lips as he steps back and allows Nile his place.

“Tough luck, but not so bad, eh? At least it went in somewhere,” Nile chuckles, his voice fluctuating as he lines up the last shot of the game. He turns his back to his opponent, leans across the table with his weight on one leg, and shoots, his fingers shaking only a bit. Levi watches the cue roll, strike the twelve and send it rattling into the side pocket, crack off the back edge, then the eight, which rolls for the fifteen - but then Levi realizes, Nile has lost. The black sphere rolls with the warp in the wood just far enough down to tap off the fifteen at just the wrong angle, and instead of the fifteen disappearing down the rabbit hole, the eight teeters over the edge and vanishes.

Levi’s eyes snap first to Nile’s expression of utter disbelief, then to his opponent’s face of dawning glee. The man in black is flushed darker than ever, with a wide grin exposing teeth that are straight and white - _Of course_ , Levi grouses with something bordering disgust - but also seem just a tad too large. Levi’s gaze lingers on those teeth for a second, mildly disquieted, but the feeling fades as he watches the man shake a shell-shocked Nile’s hand and accept his winnings with an endearing mixture of bravado and sympathy. Still holding the pool cue, he lopes over to the bar and asks Hanji for another glass of Crown Royal as he claps the man with whom he had arrived on the back. The other man had been sitting quietly at the bar through the whole game, speaking when spoken to and then only a few words. Even now, he barely congratulates his friend, seeming to prefer the comforts of his spiced rum. Levi can’t hear their words, but he watches as Hanji delivers his drink and the man in black toasts them with something that earns a genuine smile from both parties.

Well. Nile had squandered his chance to take some fine fleece from this fellow, and now it fell to Levi to recover Nile’s lost funds - and hopefully a little something for himself along the way. Making up his mind, he caught the man in black’s eye over Hanji’s shoulder and held it until the blond’s wide smile had changed slightly in nature, then glanced back at his drink. If there was one thing Levi knew, it was how to catch a man’s eye, and in this particular case, it wasn’t hard to work up the motivation. The man may be a buffoon, but he was an attractive buffoon. It wasn’t long at all before the man came to him, still flushed, with whiskey on his breath. “Fancy a game?”

Well then. Levi normally preferred a tad more small talk, to help chart the territory, as it were, but the earlier game would have to do. That still didn’t mean he could be rushed, though. “I don’t know,” he says, meeting electric blue eyes with hooded grey, “Pool’s not exactly my thing.” The man shrugs, raising his large, surprisingly tough, hands, and says “Nor mine, really, but do you see a poker table around here?”

Levi grants the man a softening of expression that would never qualify as a smile, but is nonetheless an improvement. “I suppose not. Maybe we could talk for a minute first, though - you haven’t even bought me a drink yet to make up for the money I’m about to loose.”

He chuckles. “I’d be glad to. I suppose I better do it now, too, while I still have money to spend.” As he flags Hanji over, he adds “But I’d rather talk while we play. I think much better on my feet, and I must admit, I’m not sure I can hold my own in a focused conversation at the moment.”

Levi looks at him through his lashes while Hanji refills his glass. “And yet you’re ready to hold your own in a pool game.”

The man’s head lolls in a wide circle as he considers, exposing chords of muscle and the long, white line of his throat. Levi catches himself staring and meets his eyes again as he says, “Maybe. Who cares, really? I just won twenty-five bucks. Worst I can do is break even.”

The smile touches Levi’s eyes. He sips his cocktail, then says “Mm. Nice chunk of change, but if I’m going to play, let’s make it interesting. Fifty is no bigger risk than you took in your first game, starting from the beginning, and I’d like to think I’m worth at least the risk Nile is.”

The man in black grins like it’s his twenty-first birthday again and everyone in the place has offered him a blowjob. “At least. Your wish is my command.” Levi stands, his glass in his fingers, making sure to sway slightly as he rises. He bounds back to the table and recovers the balls, asking Levi from across the table, “Stripes or solids?”

Levi sets his glass delicately on the mahogany border of the table and removes the black suit jacket draped around his shoulders, hanging it beside the drink. There’s nothing of concern in the pockets, of course. Finally, he takes a fifty out of his pants pocket and pins it under the base of his glass. “Solids.”

The man shrugs again as he places the balls, having already put his money on the table. “Suit yourself. My name is Erwin, by the way. Erwin Smith.”

Levi barely bothers to file the last name away; it’s possible he wouldn’t at all if it weren’t so easy. “Levi.”

“Attached. From Hebrew roots, I believe.” Levi shrugs, focus on the configuration of the balls.

“I don’t know what Erwin means, besides some dead men with real issues with fate.” He is no longer concerned with courting Erwin. Now that they have entered the game, he just has to be civil enough to stop the man from leaving, and good enough to pay for his night’s entertainment. Maybe, though, he muses as he moves to choose his stick, if he beats Erwin nicely, they could continue their chat. He pauses, had moving across the rack. It’s not here. His stick. If Hanji let something happen to it, he swears to every god in the sky, he’ll kill them. He turns to the bar before he can help himself, but as his eyes travel across the table, a familiar black tip catches his eye. His stick isn’t on the rack because it’s already in Erwin’s hand.

Keeping his face impassive, he stretches nonchalantly and returns to the rack. He takes a deep breath and, rather than try to maneuver Erwin into giving him his stick, he simply picks another. Not a problem. He only kept with that one out of habit anyways, but an uneasy feeling is starting in his gut. Moving towards the table, he looks more closely at Erwin, whose teeth once again appear too large for his mouth. “As the challenged, you’re welcome to break.”

Levi nods, measures his shot, and smacks the cueball into the triangle. He’s careful to keep the force under control; there’s no real reason to believe he has anything to worry about unless he allows himself to loose his cool. The four drops into the side pocket, and Levi takes another shot at a crowded corner for the five to put himself up by two before taking a bad bounce and handing the table to Erwin.

“Not your thing, huh?” Erwin says as he drops the eleven. Then the twelve.

Okay, Levi thinks. Definitely some cause for concern.

As the nine disappears, Levi berates himself for ever ignoring his instincts.

The fourteen. One turn, and Erwin has half cleared his end of the bargain. _Shit_.

Finally, he misses, though Levi isn’t sure if he does so genuinely or because he’d rather not finish the game in such a humiliating way. Levi doesn’t look at him; instead he wordlessly lines up and shoots. One is gone. Seven. Before he tries a tricky double ricochet, he glances up at Erwin and is met by a smirk somehow even wider than the idiot’s grins he’d been bestowing upon Nile. The smirk confirms all Levi’s suspicions, confirms what he’s beginning to suspect he’s known ever since Nile somehow knocked an eight ball in early: _shark_. Erwin stares at his short, muscular frame splayed across the table, energy crackling behind his eyes, and Levi refuses to look away. He may be a foot shorter than Erwin Smith, and his guard may not be exactly where he’d like it, but he is damned if he’s going to shrink down like a shocked puppy and let this great blond barbarian walk away with his game. A sneer breaks across his thin mouth as he breaks the connection. “Three ball, corner pocket,” he says, though they haven’t been calling shots, then sinks the ball with an irrefutable crack. He only has two balls left on the table.

Levi straightens and takes a moment to consider. He may be able to get rid of both this turn, but there’s no way he can get the eight as well. He’ll have to give Erwin another turn - and sink the fifteen, too. Still, the other option is to just take a bad shot now and hope Erwin both gives him another shot and gives him a decent position to finish. Not great odds. Scowling, he knocks in first the two, then the six and fifteen together. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand as he steps back, and hopes he isn’t sweating through his white shirt.

Erwin steps forward. He isn’t smiling anymore. He’s rolled up the sleeves on this black silk jacket, though the collar still stands, an edge almost as sharp as his cheekbones. Levi watches with his head thrown back in defiance as Erwin leans gracefully on the table. He props his cue up on long, perfectly steady fingers, and sends the cue zigzagging into the ten, which continues the pattern all the way into the side pocket. He straightens, rolls around the table, then throws one leg over the edge. He twists so that he’s facing his opponent, and holds his gaze as he says, “You didn’t leave me in a very good position, Levi.”

“Well, I’m so very, very sorry. I forgot section 29B of the gentlemen billiard player’s handbook clearly states the one should always make sure to leave their opponent in optimum position to fucking thrash them as quickly as possible. Especially when their opponent is a massive Goddamn shark,” Levi retorts, hissing the last sentence.

Erwin smiles, grim and blade thin. “Your accusations might sting a bit more had you not so carefully worked to portray drunkenness that disappears at the drop of a hat.”

“Me? What about you and your boozy-ass grin and your magical fucking vanishing blush? Don’t tell me you took a break from staring at my ass to freshen up while I was shooting.”

Erwin’s gaze returns to the table. “No, the blush was real.” He leans down and uses the corner of one pocket to get an angle on the thirteen. Now there is only the eight ball on the table. “It happens sometimes, when I’ve got a good yarn going and I’m going to get away with it.” He taps the cue almost lazily, sending it rolling into a corner. “Oops.”

Levi glares at him as he plunges his hand into the basket and fishes out the cue. He has given Levi the ability to place the ball perfectly on line with the eight. All Levi has to do is put the cue down and shoot - easy line. Game over. He drops the ball on the table, his entire body tense. He sets up his line. Straight across. One, two, in. The easiest shot in the book. Even as he lays down to take it, he knows he will miss.

The white ball rolls just a bit too fast, a bit to the left; the black bounces off both corners of the corner pocket and stalled, spinning wildly. Levi stood, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked Erwin dead in the eye. “Oops.”

Let him think Levi had done it on purpose. Erwin bends over the table and, with a satisfying clatter, puts away the eight. As the balls settle, Levi glares at Erwin for several seconds as Erwin glares right back. Undisclosed to either of them, both Hanji and Mike have gone silent, Hanji’s head resting comically on top of Mike’s as he gazes impassively at the game. Finally, Erwin slides off the table and takes a few steps forward, dips, and raises the cue. Running his fingers lovingly along its surface, he looks to Levi. Before he can speak, however, Levi says, “Play again. And give me my stick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More pool, now with bonus smut.

“How much did you really win off Nile?”

They have both lost track of the number of games they have played, as well as who has won; the money from the first game is still on the table and neither of them has made a move to claim it. Levi has a vague notion he may be losing on the whole, but he has not lost any of his determination. He may be leaving sweat marks on this shirt, his ears may echo with the clatter of pool balls, his eyes may be confusing the six and the nine, his fingers may be forming new callouses, but he knows Erwin can’t be faring much better, and he is absolutely going to be the last man standing.

 

“He’s aiming to be the last man standing,” says Hanji as they wipe down glasses behind the bar - which is now deserted save for the tall man who had come in with Levi’s opponent. Turns out his name is Mike. Hanji sideyes him, waiting for a response to their comment, but none comes. They sigh. He seems like a pleasant enough fellow, and they are having some fun teasing replies from him, but really. A little friendly conversation never hurt anyone. They grin.

“I hope your friend has stamina. Levi isn’t going to give up until he’s indisputably ahead.” Again, the tall man does not respond, but a small smile plays across his lips. Hanji burns to know why, but does not ask - at least not for a few seconds.

 

“Hm?” says the man in black, chalking his stick and eyeing his three remaining stripes.

“You heard me, blondie. How much did you win against Nile in that first game?”

Erwin smiles as he grinds the chalk. “Fifty dollars.”

Levi scowls; even if Erwin had lost the first game with Levi and Levi had taken his winnings he wouldn’t have lost a damn thing tonight except for some drink money - and Levi suspects the other patrons have bought him enough to compensate even for that.

Finally, Erwin bends and takes his shot - a v line into a corner. He is, of course, successful, but Levi finds it telling that he took such a simple shot when earlier he would have thought nothing of using a solid as an intermediary to drop two in one play.

“Damn Shark,” Levi reiterates flatly as he paces about the table, glaring at it, looking for an angle. He’s winning, but not by a lot; he’s got two solids left, plus the eight. Just as he sees it - his next shot, both solids and maybe a stripe the far corners - Hanji calls out from the bar. “Hey, shrimp and cocktail! Wrap it up, I want to get home before the birds start singing.”

Levi glares at them, too. “Shut up. We’re almost done, we’ll be out of your filthy hair soon, four-eyes.” As he lines up his shot, Erwin addresses him from the other end of the table. “I take it Hanji is a friend of yours?”

Levi snorts, then shoots, and watches with satisfaction as the balls clatter into their respective positions, leaving only one of Erwin’s stripes, the eight ball, and most importantly, Levi with the next shot. He stands and raises one eyebrow at Erwin and says, “What the fuck gave you that idea?”

Erwin is smiling as he watches Levi size out his next plan. He doesn’t seem distressed in the slightest by the imminent prospect of Levi’s victory. “Something in the air. She - is it she?” he interrupts himself suddenly, and seems to be genuinely waiting for Levi to answer before continuing.

Levi decides to grace him with a reply, if not his gaze. “Sure. She, he, whatever. Most of Hanji’s acquaintances use they - the ones that remember, anyway.” It’s a long shot, but it’s the best he has. He smacks the cue, sending it into a tight zig-zag that fails to end the game. Levi grinds his teeth as he stands.

“They. Very well. They seem very familiar with you, even by their standards.”

Levi glances at the bar, where Hanji is talking animatedly to a mildly interested Mike, arms flailing, occasionally grabbing his hand or shoulder in their excitement, and then back to Erwin, eyebrow raised even higher. Erwin grins. “Point.”

With that, he leans halfway across the table with one leg in the air and neatly pockets his last stripe. His next shot, the attempt on the eight, goes just millimeters wide, and he settles back on his heels with a dark expression.

“Too bad, blondie,” Levi drawls as he takes over the shot.

And misses.

As he stares in disbelief, pointedly avoiding Erwin’s small smile, he notices something in the quality of the light change. Before he can work out quite what that means, the black eight ball rises into the air.

“In the name of Morpheus, king of dreams, I declare this match a tie. Now get your fine asses out of here so I can lock up.”

Mike has already gone; Erwin smiles ruefully, thanks them for allowing the games to go on so long, and goes for the exit. Levi heads after him, hissing over his shoulder “Can’t even fucking let me finish a goddamn pool game.” They wave as he exits, smiling broadly.

Levi exits, and immediately scopes both sides of the sidewalk. The street is deserted, save for one oh-so-slowly retreating dark back topped by blond hair. Levi does not call out to him, nor even walk with undue haste. He simply strolls in the same general direction at a very slightly faster clip, still catching Erwin in less than a block.

“Walk me home.”

Erwin says nothing to this, but allows himself to be lead the better part of a mile along dark roads well outside the clean, well-lit parts of the city Levi can’t help but place him in. When they finally arrive on the doorstep of a somber gray apartment building, Erwin stops just outside the door. Levi stands inside the frame, glaring at him to come inside. Erwin stares back, clearly waiting for something.

“Well? Come in.”

“Why?”

If possible, Levi glares harder. “So I can bop you on the head and feed you to my extensive collection of giant reptiles. Why do you think, you great behemoth?”

Erwin’s lips do not move, but Levi can feel the grin in his eyes. Levi turns and walks away, and allows a smile of his own when he feels the tall form following him.

Levi leads them up the stairs just to avoid the prospect of an elevator’s stillness; he feels like a shark, like if he stops moving he’ll die - it’ll all fall apart. When they reach the door to his apartment, he unlocks it with fingers that take far too much effort to hold steady, and takes four steps into his front hall before he feels thick arms softly wrapping around his waist.

“Rules,” he says sternly. The hands still, but do not leave his body. “First, you wear a condom. No matter what. If you want my ass, you can help with prep but nothing goes anywhere until I say so. Biting is fine, but no blood, and no impacts above the waist. Probably no impacts below the waist. Those are the rules. Break any of them, or fail to stop if I tell you to, and I’ll fucking kill you. Understand?”

Erwin has not moved since Levi began to speak, but Levi swears he feels the beginnings of an erection already. “Yes.”

“Good. Get on it, then.”

Erwin’s mouth descends on the juncture of his shoulder and his neck; he feels the barest edge of teeth moving up towards his ear as Erwin’s hand snakes forward to palm at his crotch. Levi allows himself to rock backward, grinds down hard, and reaches up to tangle one hand in Erwin’s impeccably combed hair. He turns to face the taller man, and feels hands spread across his ass, squeezing as he goes in for a kiss. Levi stymies him, darting down to scrape his teeth over his Adam’s apple.

Erwin hisses and tightens his grip, and the dark-haired man finds himself being lifted into the air, to which he responds enthusiastically, lifting his hips and wrapping his legs tightly about Erwin’s waist.

He walks, and Levi’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “You don’t even know where the bedroom is,” he mutters directly into Erwin’s ear, taking the opportunity to mouth at the shell it and feeling the shudder through his entire body.

Erwin twists his face towards Levi’s, and their lips meet. “Then maybe,” he whispers, close enough for Levi to breathe the words, “you should tell me.”

Levi kisses him, deepens it, runs his tongue along those too-large teeth and finds them sharp as well, then pulls back with a genuine smile. “No. I’d rather let you find it on your own.”

The noise Erwin makes is neither a growl nor a laugh, but it comes from his diaphragm and Levi feels it all through his own chest. He strikes out again, trying each hall door as he comes to it, while the man on his chest does his best to be a terrible distraction - his lips against Erwin’s, one hand remaining tangled in his hair while the other slides lower and lower and brushes against his now-straining erection before slipping under his shirt and pressing against his abs.

After Erwin tries, to his own estimation, about ten doors (translating to the second on the right), he finally flips on the lights to reveal a stark but elegant bedroom - one in which the bed had actually been made. Erwin lowered his lover carefully onto the foot of the bed, and then lowered himself to his knees, reaching up to undo the button of Levi’s slacks.

“No,” Levi says as he tugs the blonde strands between his fingers, craning Erwin’s neck. He waits for eye contact before continuing. “Not yet. I want to see you.” The sharp blue eyes narrow, just a touch, and Levi watches as his adam’s apple bobs, as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He does not loosen his grip nor break eye contact as Erwin reaches up slowly and undoes the buttons of his dark shirt, starting from the bottom for god knows what reason. He removes the clothing with a deliberate grace, straightening it and laying it gently to the side, and still never looking away from Levi’s face.

“Get the lube. And a condom, too, while you’re at it. Top drawer, under the stockings - don’t fucking ask. If you’re going to suck my dick, you may as well make use of the time.”

Erwin nods silently and stands, finding the requested items with little difficulty, and turns to see Levi naked from the waist down and in the process of removing his own shirt. He takes him in, still silent, as he proceeds back to the edge of the bed. As he drops back to his knees, he looks again up at the dark grey eyes above him; he does not seek approval or instruction, only that Levi hears him. “You’re beautiful.”

Levi scowls. “I bet you tell all the girls that.”

Erwin’s head tilts slightly. “No, actually. I try not to lie to my lovers, unless absolutely necessary; comments regarding appearance certainly do not fit into the realm of necessary evils.”

“Whatever, Descartes. We can debate moral philosophy later.” Erwin actually smiles, and Levi realizes that he’s taken the time to coat his fingers in lube and warm it in his fist just in time for his fingers to wrap around Levi’s base and pump, rough and fast enough to draw a gasp and cause Levi’s hand to return to a fist in his already disheveled hair, before slowing to a more sustainable pace. When Levi starts to look like he’s getting his bearings, he relegates his fist to the lower part and closes his bow-shaped lips around the head.

Tight though Levi’s fingers are, he does not try to guide his partner, trusting Erwin to set the pace - at least for the moment. The larger man takes advantage of his freedom, varying the pace wildly, never allowing Levi to become overstimulated or fall into anything resembling boredom. After perhaps a minute of this, when he feels his erratic pacing may be throwing his partner off, he slows to a steady, reasonable pace and slides the hand that had been resting under Levi’s scrotum, occasionally rolling them gently, back across the perineum to the opening there. Feeling the change, Levi hitches his knees over Ewrin’s shoulders. As the same time he begins to finger the ring, he flicks his tongue across Levi’s slit down to press against the base, noting the great hitch in Levi’s breathing with no small satisfaction.

“Shit,” he hisses as Erwin’s finger slides inside him, and his mouth down the shaft to mouth gently at Levi’s balls. “Shitshitshitshit. And I can feel you fucking smiling, you great blonde bastard.”

Erwin smiles even wider at that, aware that in this case “feeling” is mostly synonymous for “knowing”. He neither comments nor slows, pressing in another finger, listening, feeling for feedback or tightening and finding none, begins to scissor gently. Levi swears again, then yanks up on the hair still between his fingers. With a tiny grunt, audible enough to make Levi smile tightly, he rises, sending Levi tumbling backwards onto the sheets. Erwin crawls on top of him, between his knees, holding himself up with one arm while continuing to stretch gently with the other. He lowers his lips to the pale skin of Levi’s throat and bites down, forceful enough to bruise; The man beneath him growls softly and moves decisively, grabbing at the still-clothed bulge now pressing into his thigh. “Hah,” he snorts when he feels Erwin’s powerful body jerk against his hand, the throbbing outline pressed hard against the fabric. “Couldn’t find a second to cut yourself loose before you rip these fucking pants open?”

“My hands were otherwise occupied,” Erin says curtly, failing to hide the tension in his voice.

“Huh,” Levi says, squeezing, not bothering to undo the slacks himself. “Too bad. This feels like it must be uncomfortable.”

Erwin is sweating, Levi notes with some amusement, and his fingers have slowed to a stop. Levi is nearly ready, now, but he’s also enjoying himself immensely. He knows Erwin still can’t do a damn thing about his pants himself, not with one arm holding himself up (and this one is starting to shake) and the other buried in Levi’s ass. He can either ask Levi to do it for him, or deal with the discomfort, and Levi is idly wondering how long it will take him to yield.

He squirms, grinding down onto Erwin’s fingers as he continues to rub slowly. “What’s the matter? You not up for it after all?”

Erwin growls out of frustration, but forces his fingers - three, now - to resume motion, slowly pumping, spreading, searching for something that might even out the field a bit. “You once again have me in a bit of a bad position.”

“Hm. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Levi says idly, now rolling his fingers over Erwin’s balls.

Erwin makes a choked sound. “Please.”

Levi stills. “Please?”

The great golden head drops onto his chest. “Please just open them.”

Levi starts rubbing lightly agin, considering. “Well, all right. I suppose.” With agonizing slowness, he undoes the button and slides the zipper down, careful to rub his hand against Erwin’s now wet cock as he does so.

A great sigh drops from Erwin’s lips, as he raises himself again and closes his lips over Levi’s. When they come away, he catches the storm grey eyes and says, with barely a hint of the tension there moments ago, “Turn over.”

Levi waits, just a second, still managing to look down his nose at Erwin from below. Then he nods and does so, propping himself on his elbows, cock bobbing against his abdomen. He hears the wrapper ripping and takes in the pause as Erwin rolls the condom down his straining length; he knows his preparation has been more than adequate but there is nonetheless something nerve wracking in the moment before what could well be - and has been in the past - splitting agony, and he is quietly glad to feel that Erwin has added more lube to the equation when he presses oh-so-slowly into Levi. Slow, but steady, he just keeps pressing and it just keeps coming, large enough that even through his prep Levi is stretched out over him. Levi throws his head back, straining to keep his breathing even, until - finally - Erwin’s base is pressed against his ass. They stay that way for a moment, breathing, until Levi nods and says, “What are you waiting for?”

The answer, it would seem, was just that. The first thrust nearly knocks Levi off his elbows, and they don’t slow down. He feels the impact through his whole body, head to toe; his hair swings in front of his face, sweat drips from the end of his nose. He thinks, wildly, just for a moment, what might happen if Erwin actually manages to hit his prostate like this, then cries out and clutches at the sheets. It doesn’t hurt - the lack of real pain is remarkable - but the intensity is shocking; he cries out again as pleasure electrifies his veins and tries to bury his face in his pillow, but Erwin is there, and the long raven strands on the top of his head provide a grip as his head is drawn backwards until his whole spine is arched. He whimpers, and registers at the moment that Erwin is stilling, and snarls “Don’t you dare stop, you goddamn shark,” in a voice that he would never admit being capable of producing, and envisions the grin that must be spreading across Erwin’s face as he resumes his punishing pace.

Levi’s toes are curling, and he hopes he isn’t tearing the sheets, and his cock aches almost as much as his ass from being left untouched and dear god, are those tears, he can’t be crying, when Erwin’s grunts begin to change - less or a growl, more of a gasp - and his thrusts begin to loose their rhythm. One calloused hand reaches around Levi’s hips to jerk at his cock, artless now in his desperation, and the touch brings even more out of him, and then Erwin bites into his shoulder and buries himself in Levi and he’s so hot, suddenly, and even more full, but he barely has time to process that before his vision goes white and he’s coming, jerking back against Erwin, slamming his clenched fist against the mattress, and Erwin just _keeps going_ and it’s too much - and then it stops. Levi is aware of his breathing beginning to steady, and of the fact that he is now holding both of them up. He throws his shoulders, pushing them both over far enough to one side to avoid lying in a pool of his own cum.

Behind him, Erwin’s breathing is ragged. “I’m afraid I may have broken one of the rules. I shall await my execution with grace,” he says, his voice rough from swallowing Levi’s cock and from his own expressions of pleasure.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your shoulder. Is it bleeding?”

Oh. Levi reaches around himself and feels at the mark left in his shoulder, then licks his fingers. “No, I don’t think so. Good thing, to. I’d hate to cut off such a pretty head.”

Erwin laughs weakly. “Do you want me to leave now, Levi?”

Levi hesitates. Normally, yes, he would, and normally they would have waited to be kicked out, at least waited a couple minutes, or even passed out right of the bat. He sighs. He supposes he’s just going to have to go with it, despite the stabbing panic it causes him: this is not normally.

“Stay, if you want. Just get up for a moment and take a goddamn shower."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started writing this on October 15, for our good commander's birthday, and now I'm going to pretend that it was in fact intended as a joint present and I always meant to release it closer to Christmas.  
> So yeah. This is still my only real fanfiction, but I've always had trouble writing smut, mostly because I'm a very action-focused writer and I have difficulty extending the actual sex part, so it winds up being mostly foreplay. Bit like my sex life, really.  
> Again, not meant to be this long, at all, but breaking it into more sort-of-pool-character-stuff and straight-up sexy times didn't feel right. So. Here it is.

**Author's Note:**

> So Fealle wanted something based on a extremely appealing picture of Erwin as a pool player and I thought, "Meh, let's write. It's not like it'll take three hours and I have a job to be at or anything." I thought about extending this, maybe adding in some smut, but it's late and I'm tired and also I think it's nice when there's some material for a pairing that doesn't end in sex. Maybe I'll add another chapter if anyone wants to see it.  
> As you can probably tell, I haven't written in a while, and I've never written Eruri. Or Erwin. Or Levi. So, uh, I hope you enjoy it, comments and (constructive) criticism welcome.


End file.
